Have I got a cure for you!

My hubs believes I sometimes forget the world does not revolve around me. I know! Shocking! What is even more unbelieveable is he has the balls to say this to a cranky, p.m.s'ing, haven't-had-my-first-cup-of-java, snotty nosed woman. First thing in the morning.

You see, dear internet, this morning it is all about me. Isn't that the unwritten rule, no, the right of all festering nosed, hormonal woman who spend the majority of their lives picking up someone else's dirty socks and on their knees wiping up other people's splash?

But my husband insists I am being a whiner. Get over it, he says as he strips off his clothes to go to bed. (The same clothes I will be forced to pick up if I ever want to see the color of my floor.)

He says he has something that will make me feel better. (I instantly perk up, thinking he has been a good man, buying me drugs and all - fool that I am!)

He waggles his eyebrows, reaches down south and says:

"Peckercillin anyone?"